Interludes of Shadowy Light 1: Marluxia  Larxene
by foxworth
Summary: Sequel to Nobody, Nothing, No Matter. Part 1: Larxene and Marluxia: Having survived the Castle that Never Was' collapse, the Nymph and the Assassin struggle to find a new life on a strange, unknown world. 1 of 4 parallel stories, see profile for others
1. Chapter 1

Hello everybody! Well, the moment you've all been waiting for…the sequel to Nobody, Nothing, No Matter is here! I'll let the first chapter speak for itself; let me know what you think.

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><p>The air was perfectly still over that desert of a world, the same as it had been for over a century. The wide hills rolled silently across its surface, the plateaus carved jutting angles through scarred plains. The sun shined with the same, almost routine brilliance it had the day before. Its rays reached out with all of the heat they could muster, but fell pitifully upon a dry, cracked earth. Once the land had held great promise, and its people were among the best and the brightest of explorers and heroes…but those days had long since passed.<p>

A great war had torn through this world, one which found solace only in a final clash of anger and darkness and violence resulting in…silence. There were no victors to praise, no spoils to indulge in or treaties to sign. In the end, the war itself claimed its prize, and only the yawning void of silence survived its passing.

The silence consumed everything: all life, all time, all meaning…all purpose. An object at rest tends to stay at rest…and so that world stayed, for the longest time.

Until it happened.

It began slowly, incrementally: a degree drop in temperature here, a rise in humidity there. Nothing any living being would worry over. But for a land left in total stasis for so long, it meant everything. The lifeless land became charged with some new, otherworldly vigor, and the air held its breath in anticipation for something, anything, to bring the change it so craved. The stillness, once lazy and complacent, tensed itself as it prepared for the event. Where was it? The sun was setting, and all it needed was a spark, a trigger, a—

FLASH!

A single bolt of lightning sliced down from the heavens, calling forth a roar as much of pain as of relief as it struck a crater into the smooth plain. As the force sent rubble flying all around, the air itself broke free of its static routine and dove in, dividing and evolving into a collective of ferocious winds. Together they lunged into the crater, flying readily in to claim their newfound prize.

The bolt had given the winds life anew, and oh how they relished the powers it gave. They had been stagnant for so long—now they were free! Did they not deserve all they could have, after ages of petrifying stillness? Just a little closer and they could fill all the space the lightning had left in its passing. Just a little closer and they could grow and merge once more, become a storm, the likes of which this world had never seen! Just a little closer…

But no! They were kept from their goal, and it was all they could do for the winds to wrap angrily around that which had taken their birthright out of their clutches. How could this be? The lightning had come in a flash; it should have left just as quickly...

…Except…it hadn't. The bolt of lightning had not left but condensed, formed a small, crackling ball of white electricity at the center of the site. It fizzled as random, castaway strands of energy were picked along by the winds, but it did not back down. Not for lack of trying, of course: electricity moves by nature, and even as the current stayed its hand, it longed to be done with this place and on to the next. Still it stayed, shifting only very slightly to accommodate more of its kind.

Strange…more lightning was coming, yet the sphere was no bigger than a baseball. No…bigger; a basketball, a beach ball—it was growing! It swelled, like a giant soap bubble, stretching its field farther and wider and thinner…so the hand behind its containment could better adjust to her surroundings.

Yes, just within the hollow of the lightning bubble, the Nymph held her stance. She stood firm, feet firmly planted under her black coat and every muscle tensed, yet her eyes, squeezed shut, gave away her fear. She was entirely focused on the matter at hand, and she had arranged herself very specifically so as best to survive it.

Her hands, for starters, were curled into fists—except for two fingers each, the pointer and middle fingers, fully extended and gushing in the lightning's lifeblood. The hands were kept separate: the left high above, guiding the lightning's path, and the right crooked below at the arm's elbow to control the intensity of the current's flow. Like a child flying a kite, the Nymph jerked her arms this way and that, directing the power which flowed from her long yellow locks towards her intended goal: salvation. She had driven through too treacherous a storm for too long to lose to the power now.

"Nggh…c'mon…heel!"

As always, the mistress of the lightning had her way. All the lightning swelled once more, taking in just one last gasp of freedom…then falling back into her, sending her hair alive with bristling power before finally settling deep within her heart. Freed of the burden of her voyage, she dropped to her knees; her arms fell out of position and hung loosely at her sides. Her eyes were now open and relaxed, staring blankly, betraying none of the turmoil behind their emerald gaze…

"Forgetting something?"

A voice! Curious…the Nymph had not sensed any others. But where? There was no place to hide. The land was as flat and seamless as ever outside the crater, and while the winds still roared in a disjointed cry of release, they did not yet enter this now hollowed space. It was the eye of the storm—silent and oblivious to the change once more—and no disturbance could penetrate it.

Unless…no! She looked to the skies, praying desperately to some unknown god that what she feared would never come. A useless act: right away, her trained eye caught sight of the speck up above as it fluttered down towards her. It drifted lazily in its descent, a shining pink light against the newly darkened sky. For all of the Nymph's might and magic, it was all she could do to watch with dread as the sweet little petal landed softly on the parched earth before her, sank into the ground…and promptly exploded forth again in a dazzling fountain of roses and thorns. There, perfectly poised at the center of a newborn rosebush, was the one person she had hoped never to meet in this place…the Assassin. And he gave an evil smile at the sight of her terror-filled face.

"Surely you don't expect to lose me that easily, do you Larxene?"

Deep down, the Nymph, Larxene, felt her heart began to throb. It was the first of many times to come.

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><p>Please review. Reviews to me are like scalpels to doctors; they help make the job so much cleaner.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Whew...sorry this is so late, but it's been crazy here-I got my SAT scores back, and they're great! Still, I remain devoted to you, my fans, as always-all it took was a Memorial Day Weekend to get the chapter done! So, here it is...hope it delivers!

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><p>Number XII: Larxene, the Savage Nymph. Once a member of an Organization dedicated to the retrieval of their lost hearts, she was considered by many to be a surprisingly formidable opponent—in every sense of the word. Despite her youth and inexperience, she was quick to gain both clout and social capital across the ranks. Despite the cold efficiency she set in her tasks, many of the other members grew accustomed to her regular presence, though a sort of weariness was always required so as to stay in her good graces. Most importantly, despite her callousness in all social matters, she managed to weasel her way into some very important places.<p>

She discussed the weaknesses of the heart with the Lancer, went on extra reconnaissance missions for the Diviner…she was even rumored to partake in target practice competitions with the Superior's second in command. She was wired into everything that happened in the Organization…and everyone knew it. Dubious as Larxene was, she couldn't fool them; they knew exactly where her allegiances stood. Since arriving on the steps of the castle, Larxene had only ever been the other half of the member who had arrived on the exact same day as her.

Number XI: Marluxia, the Graceful Assassin. Once, he and Larxene had been the closest of companions; as she infiltrated the highest ranks of the Organization, the two cohorts had schemed to take the entire institution for themselves and rule all the worlds with iron fists. They would have succeeded too…if they hadn't brought those Somebodies into the fray. Years of manipulating Nobodies had made the partners complacent, and the light in those Somebodies' hearts ultimately destroyed both their plans and their lives. Larxene herself had died defending their goals, sacrificing her semblance of a life to defend the man she had always stood by valiantly.

Times had changed though…both Nymph and Assassin had been pulled back from the dark, and the revelations that came with it had driven a wedge between the two conspirators—at least, Larxene thought, if the feeling in her chest meant anything.

"Well? Don't you have anything to say, Larxene?" Marluxia stepped down from his floral pedestal, and immediately the Nymph felt the thrumming in her heart begin to rise. She swallowed, trying desperately to think of a way to buy some time so she could think of an excuse to leave and collect her thoughts. The lightning had never given her any issues before, yet now it seemed that it couldn't sit still—it festered in her heart, vibrating every fiber and muscle and threatening to blow her apart. But that wasn't what was causing that thrum, that deep-set pile of coal in her chest…what could that be? What did it mean?

"My dear Larxene, don't look so distressed. We should be celebrating."

"O-Oh? H-How's that?" She crossed her arms and took a step back as Marluxia stepped towards her, denying him what was no doubt an attempt at reconciliation. His eyes flashed into an all-too-familiar leer of pure ice…then relaxed as he gave another confident smile. It offered all the comfort of an eviscerated dog nailed to a lamp post.

"How's that? Larxene…we've just crossed light-years of space, and quite possibly time, and we're still in one piece!"

At that, Larxene scoffed uneasily. "We? I don't remember you helping much." Her heart did a back flip the second the words were out, and it took everything she had not to shoot lightning out of every pore of her skin, but the sarcasm did help—the coal began to settle just a little, its thrum quieting down just enough to let her breathe. God…she hadn't even realized she'd been holding her breathe, but now the air felt ice cold against her burning lungs. What was happening…?

But Marluxia didn't seem to notice; the posturing Assassin only persisted in his menacing grin. "That's alright—you're tired, you're not thinking clearly. It happens, remember?" He took her hand before she had the chance to pull back, and every hair on her body stood on end as he reached up to stroke her cheek. "Just relax, and I'll take care of things from here—"

"Don't touch me!" Reality jammed itself into neutral, and then snapped; her hand jumped forward, both faster and slower than she could even process, to slap him away from her now horrible exposed-feeling skin. She jumped back quickly—no, too quickly! The thrum was back, and it was spreading everywhere, jittering and shaking everything—the whole world was shaking, why wouldn't it sit still? "Y-Y-You don't get to touch me, you don't get to be near me, I know what you did!"

"Larxene, calm down—"

"No!" This wasn't right—before, she had never shut him away. Now even as Larxene felt her world crumbling from the inside out, all Marluxia could see were the real-world consequences of her plight.

It was as though Larxene was fading away; she appeared like an intangible wraith, her body and the very air around her shaking and sputtering like a television signal barely being received. Yet she wouldn't stop—she unceasingly spewed words and words upon endless words, never stopping, never able to stop:

"YoustupidbastardyouthinkIdon'tknow?Istillrememberthe_redandthepainand_Vexendidthis_youcalledVexen__Iknowyoudidit_youdidit_'LLBURN!"_

He never even had the chance to defend himself. That final screech was the scalpel to her soul, and by slashing through the last wall in her head, she had unleashed something far beyond his ability to parry. At a velocity imaginable only to her lightning-quick brain, Larxene summoned the burning into her hands, wound it back…and chucked a glowing surge of red lightning, hitting Marluxia square in the chest.

The sheer force of the hit was unparalleled by anything Marluxia had thought possible—he was sent flying, shot yards away until he landed, disheveled, just outside the crater's expanse. As he fought the searing lump which threatened to scorch his skin through his coat, Larxene was experiencing something else—pure and plummeting dread.

"No…tell me…tell me I didn't just do that."

_Blast him._

"…What?"

The worst was over—her world was solid, in place, and she could feel the air cooling her lungs again—but the thrumming hadn't left. It was in her mind, talking to her, and Larxene could do nothing but listen in horror as it goaded her on:

_Blast him, fry him, slash him now. Boil his bones, incinerate his spine—_

"No…not you, no!"

_Kill him now, while he's weak. Don't just stand there, take him now, punish for what he's done to you. He deserves it, kill him. For the Harpies, kill him! Do it now, now, now!_

"NOOOOOOO!"

"_LARXENE!"_

He survived—that was enough to grab both their attention. The voice fell silent, allowing Larxene to turn back to Marluxia as he made his way over the rubble and back into the pit. She could smell the burning ashes and rocks from where he'd just been, but she couldn't focus on what it meant—all she could comprehend was her partner, coming towards her, his long hair obscuring his face just enough to deny her a sense of what was coming. It probably would have been best if she had known; the Assassin was done playing games now. Larxene, his Larxene, had turned a hand against him, and that he would not stand for.

"Mar? I'm…I'm sorry Marluxia, I-I don't know what came over me, I—"

"_You…you __hurt__ me."_ Even as the last drop of red acid fell from his cloak, he showed no pain or weakness—there had never been room for either in his heart before, now was no different. As he pulled his scythe into being form the confines of his mind, he cast away the niceties of his usual façade, swung back…and prepared to deliver the girl's punishment. _"What makes you think you can hurt me?"_

"Mar…no. No please Mar, please, don't—!"

"_ENOUGH!"_ He sliced forward, cutting her left cheek wide open and knocking her to the ground. She made to cover the wound, to save herself from anymore pain, but he slapped the hand away on the return swing—she wasn't going to get off so easy. From there, he wrenched her back to her feet, only to shove her into his rose bush. Larxene had grown too proud of her power; it was time to remind her she wasn't the only one with power. He needed only to send out a casual thought, and the vines of roses did his bidding, ensnaring the lithe girl in their clutches and preparing her for their master's bidding. By the time they had finished, she was scarred from head to toe by thorns, and she couldn't so much as twitch without adding another scratch to her collection.

"Please…I'm sorry."

She was crying…pitiful girl, he thought. She doesn't even have anything to cry over yet. _"Let me make one thing very clear…"_ He held the blade of his scythe just below her chin, drawing the faintest line across the pulsing skin at the divide between her head and her neck. _"You are __nothing__ without me. Do you understand? I am the master, and you belong to me._

"_Now say it."_

Say it…that's all she had to do, just say it. Say the phrase that had gone between them so many times before, and she could rest, if only for a little while. She opened her mouth and spoke, just barely etching out the words through the tears:

"I'm…yours."

There, she was done. He pulled the blade back, and she collapsed into unconsciousness…but not before she caught a glimpse of his eyes. Though she could have been mistaken, Marluxia seemed to be a world away. In those eyes, she saw only the Assassin, complete with those bright green irises…and that orange haze enshrouding those dark pupils.

"_That's right…you're mine. All mine."_

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><p>Meanwhile, far off in the distance, a single bird flew its last mission home. It could still feel the blazing heat of the battle far behind it—the red blasts and the orange smog—but the little chick did not look back for even a second. Even for a bird, there was very little space in its mind for speculation as to what it had just witnessed, but it made no difference to the little fowl—it had found what it had come for. Now all it needed to do was to fly back home and deliver the news: new arrivals…and these ones had colors.<p>

So the bird flew as quickly as it could through the air, a bright blue star against the darkened sky, and for once it took the time to enjoy the aid the new winds gave it on its journey. Perhaps these newcomers weren't so bad after all, for them to have brought this… Still, it kept its target in sight: a tall, foreboding column, standing straight up in the middle of the landscape, higher than any other plateau on the entire world. This…this was home.

It was sure that it was getting closer—the land below had changed, become littered with those oddly shaped sticks that surrounded the column. Silly little sticks, all stuck in the ground, bent and leaning in different directions…but the little bird knew better than to land and rest on one of them. The master wouldn't like that—he was very protective of them for some reason—and it wasn't as though they were very comfy places to roost anyway…too sharp, and too flat to get a good hold on…

Here, home: no time to daydream. The little chick, young and inexperienced though it was, had flown its solo trek without fail; it was only a little way away from the base of the column. Following the master's instructions to the letter, the bird brought its head up and aimed for the sky, righting itself so it flew parallel to the column. It shot up like a bullet towards the sun, not even needing to flap its tiny wings—here, at home, nothing could slow it down. It simply aimed higher and higher, getting faster and faster as its heart swelled with pride—until, finally, it curbed its ascent, coming to a stop just above the edge of the column's top. Once there, it hovered for a moment, uncertain of its strength to go on, then landed in a less than graceful plop—in the hands of its dutiful master, a boy with ruffled dark hair and colorless eyes.

Quickly righting itself, the chick laughed, or rather cackled, happily as it brushed up against the familiar metallic fingers and began to roost for the night. Soon it was asleep, chirping quietly with each breath, and the boy brought it close in to his chest, cradling it the way a mother would her child. He understood the bird's need to rest, he could wait—whatever news it had brought could at least wait till morning. So he rocked his little chick back and forth, whispering to it all the while:

"_Get yeh sleep, littl' kookaburra, get yeh sleep—yeh've got a big day t'morrah, yeh best be ready f'it."_

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><p>Well, I hoped you all enjoyed that! Summer's coming, so I should be able to update more often-I hope you all are looking forward to it. I sure am!<p>

Please review. Reviews to me are like sedatives to the guys in Inception; everything falls apart without them.


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